Ascended

by S. Young

  He couldn’t understand. He needed to understand. He needed to run.

  “I don’t think her decision is insane.”

  Lucien shook his head. “Jaeden, we’re not going to kill innocent people to further our means. I don’t know why Caia feels she has to do it. There’s no good reason—”

  “Oh, for the love of the gods, Lucien!” Jaeden snapped out of her seat. “This is Caia! She always has a good reason!”

  What did she want from him? What did she want him to say? That what Caia was doing was okay? Because it wasn’t. It would never sit right with him.

  “Jaeden, I don’t want to argue. In fact, I want to go for a run. So you can stay here bitching at the wall or you can come with me.”

  She screwed up her face at him like a child and took a moment. Finally, she exhaled with a huff, “Fine. I’ll come running with you. But I want you to know that I think she’s doing the right thing.”

  He shrugged numbly, refusing to look at her, feeling little more than a young boy lost.

  “Dear Gaia,” she gasped. “You think she’s going to change her mind. You only kicked her out ’cause you don’t believe she’ll go through with it.”

  Ten points for wolf girl. Of course he didn’t believe Caia capable of killing innocent people. The only thing holding him together was that hope. And he wasn’t letting go.

  He nodded in reply. “I kicked her out hoping that would stop her. It hasn’t, but … I have Reuben’s phone number. I’ll check in with him to make sure she’s alright. And then—”

  “And then what? Be there when she changes her mind?” She shook her head sadly. “Jeez, Lucien … even if she does miraculously decide not to take out the Septum, do you honestly think she will ever forgive you for letting go of her so easily?”

  Her question caused his throat to close, and he felt the unbearable need to swipe at something with his claws outstretched. Finally, he pinned her with his own penetrating look.

  Fight fire with fire.

  “You really think if you keep pushing Ryder away, he’ll still be there when you realize what an idiot you’re being?” He shouldn’t have enjoyed the way she paled, but the animosity between them egged him on. “Yeah, I didn’t think so,” he whispered with a smirk.

  “You’re a jerk.”

  “Misery loves company, sweetheart.” He shrugged, speaking the truth.

  She gave a pathetic half growl before jumping toward him with an animation she hadn’t shown in a while. “OK, so … you didn’t actually mean to kick Caia out, right?”

  “Right …”

  “Then let’s go get her. All of us. Let’s do this together.”

  He shook his head. “I told you, I’m not dragging the pack back into this. Plus … for the hundredth time, I don’t agree with what she’s doing.”

  “But you love her?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you want to protect her?”

  “Of course.”

  “So let’s just you and I go. We’ll go get her. Keep her safe.”

  He sighed, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Why was Jae doing this? She was making him feel bad … it was like kicking a puppy, for Gaia’s sake. “I can’t. I can’t leave the pack alone again.” He cursed, feeling his anger at his mate building. “And Caia knows that! No. She made her choice. I have to make mine.”

  He watched her shoulders slump, the dim light in her eyes dying. There was more to this for Jae than she was letting on, but getting it out of her would mean nothing short of torturing her. He could only hope she came around on her own.

  After a few minutes of silence, he shrugged. “You still up for that run?”

  “Do I get to bite and hit you?” She snapped up from her chair and crossed the room to the exit.

  He sighed and followed her out the door. “Will you ease up on the verbal assaults if I say yes?”

  “But they hurt more.”

  “True. But I’m sure you’ll find more satisfaction taking your frustration out on my hide rather than coming up with new caustic witticisms to scar my soul.”

  “Well there, see … that’s where you’re wrong.”

  17

  A Lair, a Girl, and a “Hell, No!”

  Incense flooded her nostrils and clogged the back of her throat. She fought hard not to cough, not wanting to offend Reuben. But the place really did smell bad.

  Reuben grinned back at her. “The incense covers the odor.”

  Caia frowned as they walked down the dark, narrow hall and approached the doorway covered with a beaded curtain. “What odor?” she whispered to Saffron who glided beside her.

  Saffron glowered at Reuben’s back. “You’ll see.”

  Curious as to the dark look Saffron had thrown Reuben (who as far as Caia could gather was technically her boss), she followed the vamp through the red-beaded curtain and came to an abrupt halt at what she found on the other side.

  Saffron nudged around her. “Caia,” she prompted.

  But Caia was in shock. They stood in a cramped living room where old, worn-out sofas and beanbags took up most of the space. A TV flickered in the corner where a couple of people sat watching it hypnotically. Soda and beer cans littered the floor, and spilled chips and cookies feathered with mold kept them company.

  The mess wasn’t what shocked Caia. It was the humans—three, to be exact. And the three vampyres who were sucking blood out of the humans’ necks and wrists. More shocking were the moans of pleasure escaping, invisible oh’s and ah’s from the mouths of the humans. And the odor was the coppery headiness of blood mixed with sex.

  Caia made a face. Lovely.

  Caia realized two people in front of the TV were also human. One of them turned and noticed them, his eyes flaring wildly at the sight of the intruders. He scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with panic as he rushed to the female vampyre on the couch sucking on some guy’s wrist.

  “H-heey, D-Dee … w-w-we got compaanyy,” he stuttered, moving cautiously closer to the vampyres.

  Caia was totally confused. When Reuben told her they were going someplace safe to hang out while she looked into the Septum’s trace, Caia didn’t think he meant a vampyre lair … where there were actual bad vampyres. And she was guessing the vampyres hadn’t been expecting old Reuben to drop by. Boy, was he going to crack some heads!

  The vampyre she assumed was Dee looked up languidly from her feeding and smiled, thick blood made extra slippery from saliva trailing down her chin.

  Again. Lovely.

  “Reuben,” she sighed happily.

  “Dee.” He nodded, giving her a slight smile hello.

  What? Was he freaking kidding? There were vampyres, feeding on humans! Hello!

  “Reuben,” Caia said sternly and then stopped as Saffron’s hand wrapped around her wrist in warning.

  “Caia.” Reuben turned back to her, grinning at the look of concern on her face. “This is Dee, Andreas, and Charles. This is their lair. They’ve kindly allowed us the use of one of their private rooms at the back so we can get down to business.”

  “By business, you—”

  “Just follow,” Saffron insisted, and Caia was dragged through the room, past the bloodsucking, through a tiny 1980s kitchen, down another corridor and into a back bedroom that was much larger than she would’ve guessed. It was also empty other than a heart-shaped double bed. Oh my.

  “What the Hades is going on?” she hissed as Saffron closed the door behind the three of them.

  Reuben scowled at her. “Dee knows we’re here on a mission, but she doesn’t know what … you nearly blurting it out was very intelligent, thank you.”

  How dare he?

  “Me?” she huffed incredulously. “I’m mucking up the mission? You brought us into a den of iniquity! I thought you hunted rogue vampyres, not partied with them!”

  He looked to Saffron for backup. The faerie shrugged. “You’ll find no help from this quarter, Reuben. You know I hate these places.”

&
nbsp; “These places?” Caia snapped. “What is this place?”

  He sighed and shrugged. “It’s not illegal, Caia. It’s a place where willing humans act as donors. They’re addicts. The act of taking someone’s blood can be quite pleasurable to a human.”

  “Is that before or after they die?”

  A growl erupted from the back of his throat. “They don’t die. They’re donors. They’re well taken care of.”

  Caia didn’t care if they were well taken care of or if they were willing. It was just … wrong! It was like a twisted version of a drug house. An ugly thought occurred to her. “You don’t … do you?”

  Reuben looked affronted by the suggestion. “No. I do not feed on humans. I never have. But this is the last place anyone would think to look for us. We’re safe here while you gather the information you need from the trace.”

  Safe? Somehow she didn’t think so.

  “So you trust the vampyres with the human blood decorating their teeth and gums, do you?”

  With another sound of annoyance, Reuben crossed the room and lowered himself onto the bed. His dark gaze blazed with command. “I trust Dee to not tell anyone we’re here. I’ve known her a long time. She does favors for me, and I allow this lair to remain open for business. It’s not pretty, but it’s the way of the world, little girl. So quit squalling and take this.” He thrust the paper with the names of the Septum out to her. “Sit down and get started.”

  Disgruntled, Caia nonetheless did what he asked and settled into an armchair. Reuben and Saffron made themselves comfortable on the bed, and Caia looked up to see them both drift off to sleep. It had been a long drive, and while Caia slept in the back of the car, Reuben and Saffron had remained vigilant up front. They made only one pit stop where Saffron ran into a diner to grab burgers for her and Caia. They ate hungrily while Reuben drank what she presumed was blood out of a flask.

  The silence was only penetrated by the soft sounds of their breathing, and Caia looked nervously down at the piece of paper that had gotten her kicked out of her pack. It was still hard to believe Lucien had thrown her out. She’d thought there was literally nothing that could come between them. She didn’t think there was anything she wouldn’t do for him and had thought the feeling was mutual. But he’d done it to protect the pack, and that she could understand—that she respected. The way he was with the pack was one of the reasons she loved him so damn much.

  But, and though she knew it was irrational, she was cut to the quick. The hurt was as deep a gash as the loss of her pack, as the loss of her friends, Marion, Sebastian. And she was afraid the hurt her mate had caused might not be the kind of scar that disappeared after the change.

  Wow. She really was on her own now. But she’d been here before, and she could do this. She could do this alone.

  At that, she spread open the paper and began investigating the trace. To her absolute relief, the first two were Midnights, one of whom was a member of the Council who had propagated the idea of a witch hunt against Nikolai. The other Midnight wasn’t nearly as prominent within the coven; however, he was equally a racist and believed in the rightness of the war. She let loose a long stream of relieved air. This was good. This was really good. No guilt for killing the bad guys, huh?

  She straightened in her seat and touched the third name. Eliza Emerett. With a whoosh Caia was pulled into the girl’s trace, her essence dousing her in floods just as Laila’s had.

  She felt sick to her stomach when she realized why.

  Eliza Emerett was an eleven-year-old Midnight. An eleven-year-old innocent girl with no real understanding of the war. The only world she knew was that of her parents, the farm they owned in England, her horses Star and Pooka, the cat, Lightning, and the two dogs, Bob and Fred. And let’s not forget her imaginary friend, Nicky, who hung out by the old oak tree down by the stream.

  The trace devoured her, refusing to let go, and Caia struggled, pulling and twisting to be released, the nausea of her find overwhelming.

  She jerked back and felt her head slam against the wall behind the armchair. Reuben shot up from his half sleep and stared at her in concern. Saffron was slower to wake, but Caia waited for her to do so.

  And then she pinned them both with a look that would fry their asses to the bed.

  “You bastard,” she whispered.

  He groaned, scrubbing his face before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He leaned toward her, studying her face quietly. Finally, just when she thought she might change into a lykan and attack him, he nodded at the paper. “What happened? What did you find?”

  She glared at him. “You really don’t know?”

  “I really don’t know.”

  “Eliza Emerett.” She stabbed the name on the paper with her finger.

  “What about her?”

  Was he deliberately being a jackass or did he honestly not have a clue what she was talking about?

  She stood and he watched her warily as she approached him. Yeah, he better be wary. “She’s eleven, Reuben.” She threw the paper at him. “She’s an eleven-year-old Midnight. Her biggest fear is when her old dog, Fred, is going to bite the bullet!”

  Saffron groaned and buried her head in her knees. Reuben swore and snapped up off the bed, crumpling the paper in his hand. “Nikolai,” he hissed.

  Caia stopped, watching the tension ripple through the vampyre’s body. “You really didn’t know?”

  “No!” He whirled on her.

  “Wow.” She relaxed a little, seeing how upset the news made him. “You’re not so evil after all.”

  He chortled but the sound was anything but happy. “Don’t kid yourself, Caia.” He sneered at her and held up the crumpled paper. “This wouldn’t stop me. Nikolai knows that. He seems to have forgotten, however, that we aren’t dealing with me. We’re dealing with you. And I know even threatening the pack couldn’t get you to kill a little girl.” He slammed a fist into the wall with a rare show of loss of control. “We are so screwed!” he spat, ignoring the crumbling plaster.

  Caia looked at Saffron whose face was blank. “Well … at least he knows when he’s hitting a brick wall. I mean, metaphorically speaking. You know … I’m the brick wall. I won’t budge on the killing of a little girl and he gets that. You get what I—”

  Saffron threw her a look of disdain. “You’re prattling. Shut up.”

  She stepped back against the wall and let herself slide to the floor. “Where do we go from here?”

  “Hades?” the faerie suggested dryly.

  Caia made a face. “Not helpful.”

  They stayed in tense silence for a while, avoiding eye contact. Finally, Reuben cursed again under his breath. “Why is this going wrong? This isn’t the way it should be going. That damn Prophet …”

  Something niggled at Caia.

  Reuben? The Prophet? Yes! That was it!

  Caia’s head jerked up. “The Prophet!” She leapt to her feet in one fluid movement. “That’s it.”

  Reuben frowned. “What’s it?”

  She smiled slowly. “We need to talk to the Prophet.”

  When they weren’t getting giddy with excitement like she was, Caia almost slammed their heads together. Then she realized she hadn’t actually explained what she was so excited about. It had been a long week.

  “Okay,” she said hurriedly. “My original plan was to get the Council to take away Marita as Head of the Coven and have the gods replace me. That way I’d be in control of the trace and begin peace negotiations—I know, I know, how terribly naive. But what if we find the Prophet and ask him if he thinks the gods will take away the trace if I do become Head of both covens?”

  They stared at her blankly for a moment before Reuben asked, “And why would the gods take away the trace?”

  She threw up her hands in half-assed exasperation. “Because! The trace exists for one reason only—a weapon for each leader of each coven. If I’m the Head of both covens, then the purpose of its existence no longer endures! Surel
y the two traces would cancel each other out. The gods wouldn’t see a reason for us to have it anymore.”

  The vamp and faerie stared at her for what seemed forever and then they looked to one another. Slowly but surely, a mirror-image grin spread on their faces. Reuben turned back to Caia, his eyes glittering with respect. “That’s brilliant, Caia.”

  “You think so?” she whispered, feeling the first glimpse of relief and warmth shimmer within her chest since the loss of the pack.

  “I more than think so.” He shrugged into his coat. “Right, we have to find the Prophet.”

  18

  The Prophet

  The last few weeks had been excruciating to say the least. Patience, she discovered, was not one of her virtues. But at least she didn’t have to stay in that horrible place with Dee and her band of merry bloodsuckers anymore. Caia never would’ve thought she’d be so grateful to be invited by Nikolai to stay at his safe house. His safe house wasn’t a basement apartment full of blood and empty kitchen cabinets. Yes, the fridge in his safe house was filled with bags of animal blood belonging to Reuben (courtesy of a butcher—she wasn’t going to ask when he’d had time to visit a butcher, as she was realizing there wasn’t any point interrogating the most mysterious person she’d ever met), but the safe house was a modest-size beach cabin with no neighbors for miles. It was plush and luxurious inside, and Caia could lose herself in the sound of the surf while they anxiously waited for the Prophet to get back to them.

  After leaving Dee’s lair, Caia had tracked down the Prophet in the trace. The old guy was in Greece, putting up his feet while the Midnights figured out just who was in charge now that Nikolai was AWOL. Tracking him was the easy part; it was getting a hold of him that was proving to be problematic. Caia wasn’t confident enough in her communication spell to travel somewhere she’d never been before, and she didn’t have Vil because, well, he was with the pack. Saffron could transform into a bird and fly there, but that would take days they didn’t have.